


Warmth & Wendigos

by manicr



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/pseuds/manicr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World War Wendigo from  Amazing X-Men #8-12 had it been set during Dark Reign. Osborn sent Daken and Bullseye to Canada to deal with the crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth & Wendigos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DangerousCommieSubversive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/gifts).



It had been over two weeks now, and the bodies, both human and Wendigo, were stacked high in the early spring snow, the blood bright in the pale sunlight and the stench barely held at bay by the cold air. Daken rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off some of the bone-deep weariness born out of the need for constant alertness. He tried to count the hours since he last slept: it must have been the day before yesterday. He had stolen a few hours leaning against Bullseye as the other man held watch. It hadn’t been enough. Not after a week of much the same.

Daken stared into the white wilderness only a click away from their current base, keeping eyes, ears and nose on the tree line. They had already taken down two Wendigos today. It had been yet another close call; each fight against the beasts was deadly. It had been a pure hell that neither man had wanted to sign up for, let alone over something as mundane as a fucking non-profit “public safety” Avengers mission. But Norman had been _adamant_ on their complete cooperation in killing every damn single Wendigo that had infested the hinterlands at the Canadian border. Daken had suggested that he sent the Sentry if he was that keen on it but Osborn refused to have the Golden God leave his side, and had chewed them out for cowardice and laziness. He had also noted that since the curse had spread so that touching American soil no longer dispelled it, he needed the Sentry to man the American side of the border.

Daken shuddered and kicked the snow off his boots. He hated wendigos with a single-minded fury these days. The stench that covered them, was reason enough for his loathing, more so that they were _nearly_ indestructible. The only thing that came close to his hatred of the foul beasts, was the cold wilderness of the Canadian outback, miles and miles of nothing dotted by small towns ripe for the wendigos to feast on. How anyone could tolerate living here was a mystery to Daken. His last visit in his father’s homeland, decades ago, had been equally unpleasant even if the circumstances had been different.

As it was, they had barely set foot in Toronto before Alpha Flight and their associates had relocated them to the hot spots at the border, centering around the Ontario forests and the town of Brandon. The Canadian heroes had set his teeth at an edge; Daken could see the look in their eyes as they compared him to his father. It made him want to rip out their eyes and feed them to them. Worse yet, Daken had a suspicion that his father had _told_ them to “look after” him.

Bullseye, on the other hand, turned out to be an unexpected ally. His fellow Avenger had been struck by equal measure of loathing toward their nominal allies. Daken didn’t feel like looking that gift horse in the mouth; Bullseye was a psychotic who instinctively hated _everyone_. They entertained themselves with annoying and harassing them as much as they could possibly get away with. There was little else to do other than that and to kill Wendigo.

The infestation was unusually large and it had taken days to ascertain the source, and when they had, Daken and Bullseye had burst into laughter. The others hadn’t quite seen the humor in shoving a man into meat grinder and serving him to an entire town. Bullseye still made bad puns about cannibalism and how it probably was better than whatever was put into minced meat as it was, though now even his good cheer was stretched thin.

“Hey, shithead,” Bullseye greeted him, deliberately bumping into his shoulder.

“Die in a fire.” Daken shoved him back, bodily slamming into him enough to make him sidestep. The exchange was habitual by now, an established ritual designed to keep both of them alive and alert.

“Recon says that we have tracks heading our way. No visual yet.” Bullseye bumped into him again, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Fuck me,” Daken hissed both at the adamantium laced bone and the idea of having to yet again slaughter mindless slobbering beasts while avoiding the slightest scratch. It was _annoyingly_ limiting. His job was to keep the beasts off Bullseye while the other man took them out with poisoned explosive arrow tips. Not that he hadn’t killed on his own – but the beasts were damn nearly invulnerable and it took _heavy_ Oscorp biotech or a _perfect_ hit with his Muramasa blade claw to kill. Then again, they weren’t _meant_ to be there as a solution. It annoyed him to have to rely on his teammates in this manner. But after weeks of much the same he had resigned to it and slipped into a somewhat comfortable cooperation, which neither man acknowledged existed.

“Ask me nicely,” Bullseye quipped. He looked as bad as Daken felt. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and unnaturally glassy, like milky blue marbles in a red shot sea, and his skin had gone even more ashen and stretched taut over his face. He looked as unstable as he was, a veritable poster boy for insane serial killers everywhere.

“Clean up and I’ll consider it,” Daken said. He unzipped and shrugged off the heavy winter jacket, tossing it with their supplies. He would need all the agility he had, cold be damned.

“Heh. You know what, _you_ take out the Wendigo and I’ll give you a kiss, faggot.”

“Oh, you say the _sweetest_ things, Lester.”

“I’m a real gentleman.”

Daken flashed a genuine smile at him, it was mostly just a quirk of the lips but it held warmth. Bullseye was good company when he wanted to be and after weeks in the wilderness they had settled into a kind of camaraderie. Daken raised his head abruptly, the noise from the woods was too deliberate and loud to be anything but their prey.

“Showtime, princess. Let’s have some fun.” Bullseye grinned eyes flashing, there was still life in him, bow drawn and his special arrows ready. “All work and no play makes Bullseye a dull boy.”

Daken rushed. He couldn’t see it yet — but he had caught its scent; it was moving _fast_ toward them. He needed to halt it in its tracks or Bullseye would never have a chance – the fodder of soldiers behind them were good for nothing but a temporary distraction.

The white flash of fur, claws and teeth had him jumping high and landing on the creature. He stabbed down at it, missing any main arteries, barely drawing blood, but keeping its full attention. Giant claws swiped at him and Daken jumped and rolled, avoiding the second swing of claws and teeth. The wendigo was huge and furious, thankfully there was only the one of it – and Daken was much smarter than it.

It lunged and roared, Daken feinted and slashed at it, keeping it off balance. He had to throw himself back to avoid the next blow, landing hard on the frozen ground.

Glancing up at a faint noise, Daken saw _another_ wendigo leap at him and scuffled desperately to get out of foot, gliding in between the first wendigo’s legs and gutting it as he went. It howled and got an armful of the other wendigo, resulting in a brief fight. Cursing his bad luck and lack of attention, Daken headed toward camp.

“Fucking shoot it!” He roared at Bullseye and felt an arrow fly past him; the concussive force sent him sprawling.

Daken rolled as he heard the other wendigo near him, barely managing to avoid its claws. He kicked wildly, hitting a muzzle-like face, and grabbing it by its fur – the wendigo screamed and tossed. Daken heaved himself on its back with the momentum and stabbed down with the Muramasa blade at the base of it’s neck, hanging on as it struggled and thrashed in his grip. He didn’t let go until the beast fell down on the ground, still twitching. Blood-soaked and exhausted, Daken cut off its head. He fell to his knees, tossing aside the head contemptuously, and just _breathed._ The fight hadn’t taken long, mere minutes, but it had drained him utterly.

“Nice job. C’mon, upsy-daisy, fuckface.” Bullseye pulled him up to his feet. Daken stared blearily at him and tried to comply.

“You owe me a kiss,” he muttered and hung heavily on his shoulder.

“I’m a man of my word.” Bullseye chuckled and pressed his mouth to his shaved head. “You need a shower, man. _Seriously_. Someone give me a bottle of something strong.”

Daken didn’t pay much attention and let himself be seated by a fire and his coat draped over his shoulders. A bottle of cheap scotch was pressed into his hand and he drank deeply and poured some over his hands as well, washing away blood and giving some warmth. Bullseye settled next to him and Daken leaned into him for warmth and comfort. He had only slept when he had had to – they had spent many nights in the wilderness with next to no provisions and no possibility of leaving until they were picked up by the next flight out to the next damn disaster site.

“Eyes in the sky don’t expect more. Pity. I had been aiming for a record today.” Bullseye chattered, but Daken barely paid any attention, dozing against him and huddling best as he could in his coat. He felt Bullseye pull up his hood and throw an arm around him, eating an MRE with the other.

Daken woke up to Bullseye shaking his shoulder. “Got company. The hippie fucks decided to _grace_ us with their presence.”

“ _Now_ they decide to turn up. Could as well have stayed away and let me sleep.” Daken didn’t look forward to _socializing_ with Alpha Flight, especially not when he was this dead on his feet. His healing factor did little to mitigate the effects of long-term sleep deprivation. Bullseye was doing better; he was used to functioning on drugs and little sleep – a soldier and a sniper to the core.

“Do you think they’d mind if I gutted the shape changer woman? I have the worst craving for a good foie gras.” Daken said. With practiced ease, he threw an arm around Bullseye’s shoulders, grabbing him by the straps that secured both his costume and quiver, pulling himself to his feet. Bullseye grinned toothily at him; he had threatened and even repeatedly attempted to kill the shape changer, Snowbird, claiming that he had thought it had been a normal owl or wolf that had startled him. She deliberately remained human in his company after that. Her anger and fear were like honey to the both of them. Not that it was the only reason she and Alpha Flight were mad at them. The bodies in the cold spring light were the major cause of strife and ire between the teams. They _had_ once been human. It _was_ possible to revert the curse, but so far the sanctimonious heroes had failed to do so on a scale that was relevant.

Norman and the United States Armed Forces had however reached a consensus of zero tolerance to the Wendigo epidemic; not a _single_ monster would be allowed to set food in the States. Daken and Bullseye had drawn the unlucky lot of being the ones sent to the front, past the hermetic border guard that had been established. Both of them were ready to shove _Norman_ in a meat grinder for that decision.

“It’s done.” Was all that Guardian greets them with as he and his entire team come to the site of their slaughter, glancing at the frozen bodies with ill-hidden anger and sadness.

Daken could just imagine the unsaid rage that churned in the man and his team. Alpha Flight’s guilty mantra: _We should have saved them._ Talisman stared at the corpses and moved toward them, Puck stopped her with a shake of his head. It was _she_ who had failed with her counterspell. Not that the X-Men hadn’t helped to make matters worse – they thought that no one knew of the mutant involvement but it hadn’t taken Daken more than a day to figure that out. Hell, the idiots as good as parade themselves. Northstar and Aurora’s presence were evidence enough. But he hadn’t told Norman; it served him right.

“You _murdered_ them! Had you just waited for an hour—!” Talisman shrieked but was dragged back.

“What now?” Bullseye said, his arms crossed and a sneer on his face.

“The curse is finally lifted. _You_ can leave,” Snowbird said, her fingers clutching her arms like claws. Absentmindedly, Daken noticed that she was still stiff in her right arm where Bullseye’s arrow had hit her wing.

Daken blinked, startled, but quickly controlled himself and narrowed his eyes at their allies. “How? You are certain? We have orders to remain until the Wendigo threat is neutralized.”

“We fought in the spirit plane and eradicated the source. The Great Beasts turned the ones alive back into humans. The curse is broken -- for good. Your government had been informed. There is a jet coming for you,” Guardian said. It was clear that the man was restraining himself with each and every clipped word that left his mouth. He had beat up Bullseye for shooting Snowbird, the only reason he hadn’t killed him, was that his team had restrained him. It was very evident that he wanted to finish what he had started. Daken’s mind looped back to these details and he couldn’t seem to process the new news.

“Finally! Thank fucking God!” Bullseye exclaimed and threw his arms up. “I had started to think I would have to learn the Canadian anthem.”

This anti-climatic end to this clusterfuck left Daken speechless. Seventeen days in a war zone in bumfuck nowhere and all they got was a ‘fuck off’. He stared at the disdainful heroes and Bullseye’s tired face – as the realization crept over him, he burst into laughter. The entire situation was ridiculous. Had he expected cheering and medals? To receive a hero’s welcome like his father? Burrowing his face into Bullseye’s shoulder Daken laughed until he cried, shaking and feeling like nothing meant anything. He might have said something as after a moment or two, Bullseye caught on and joined him and laughed in hollow barks of mirth.

“ _Damn lunatics,_ ” Puck muttered. “Good riddance.”

Daken barely noticed it when Alpha Flight left and Bullseye dragged him along to the landing site. He just wanted _home_ now. It was strange that the Tower had come to mean that to him. The trip home on the jet was spent in an utter stupor, but neither Daken nor Bullseye felt comfortable sleeping with others present. The ingrained habits of watching out for wendigo weren’t allowing them to let down their guard. A part of Daken still expected a call out to the wilderness and the cold. Briefing Norman en route was a nightmare, which seemed endless, as their boss was chewing them out and wanting all the details at once. They were given orders to present themselves at his office upon arrival, even though Norman and the rest of the team were on a mission and to wait for him. No excuses or delays.

“I gonna _feed_ Normie to a wendigo,” Bullseye stated and rubbed his face, suppressing a yawn; he’d stopped taking stims and was visibly crashing. Daken resisted the impulse to yawn as well, nodding in agreement to the sentiment and wishing that Osborn would have at least allowed for a change of clothes and a meal before briefing. As it was they both stank of wendigo, blood, and filth. Daken was sorely tempted to tell Norman to go fuck himself and just crash into bed but he had a suspicion that Norman would have Ares or Sentry drag him by the hair into his office if he did.

Bloody, cold and worn, they settled into the common room instead of the waiting room to wait for Norman. It was a small infraction and show of obstinance, but neither man wanted to comply completely with their boss’ demands. Besides, the couch was far more comfortable in the common room. Bullseye flopped on the couch with a loud groan, sinking into the pillows with visible delight. Daken settled down next to him out of habit, pulling his legs up and folding them under him.

“Fuck, I can’t believe we’re back. _Un-fucking-believable_ , I tell you. The moment we get Normie off our ass I’m gonna take a shower and shave. Then I’m going to sleep for twelve hours, take the longest piss ever, eat like a horse and go back to sleep for another twelve hours. Maybe I’ll kill someone. Who knows?” Bullseye said. “You?”

“Wash. Sleep. Eat,” Daken responded laconically, eyes closed and nearly falling into Bullseye’s lap as the other man sunk further into the couch. “Move, fuckface.” Daken shoved at his shoulder.

“Bite me, asswipe.” Bullseye shoved him back, and in a sprawl and scuffle of limbs, they settled into the couch. Bullseye ended up with one leg over the couch while leaning on the armrest, Daken sprawled on his back between his legs, head resting on Bullseye’s chest.

“Should cut back on the foie gras, shit-for-brains.” Bullseye whined but settled an arm over his chest rather than letting it hang over the edge of the couch. Neither of them thought much of this arrangement – they had spent the better part of their imposed exile at the border in extremely close quarters and pretty much eroded all sense of privacy and physical boundaries.

“Ah, that’s the opposite of what I should do. I fully intend to spend the entire week eating at the best restaurants New York has to offer. I’ll bill it all to Norman. He _owes_ me that much.” Daken soaked in Bullseye’s heat and the steady sound of his heart.

“I’m gonna have junk food. Greasy salty carbohydrates all the way, baby. I don’t fucking care if there’s ground long pig in it, I’m gonna eat my own weight in burgers and fries.”

“That’s disgusting. I thought you said that your body was a temple.”

“Yeah, and I intend to fill it with comfort food. Also, sugar.”

“Feed me, Lester.” Daken stared up morosely at Bullseye, craning his neck and squirming to face him properly. Bullseye sneered but whatever he had intended to say was interrupted by yawning. Daken repeated the gesture and cuddled into him, settling his weight more evenly across the other man’s body. Bullseye grumbled, pulling at his hair to relocated his head to the side of his neck rather than beneath his jaw.

“Fucking should have let me shoot the bird bitch then, I bet she could have made a good steak or something.”

“Not a steak. Owl would probably be better off marinaded and cooked. Birds of prey are rather stringy. Should have killed her when she was a bear. That’s good meat. Anyhow, we would have turned into wendigo.”

“I fucking _hate_ Canada.” Bullseye sighed and petted his hair absentmindedly. Daken hummed his agreement and tried not to fall asleep. Bullseye was already half-gone.

Daken blinked and looked up from his comfortable position, nestled against Lester, right at the rest of their team entering the room. It took him a few seconds to realize that they hadn’t snuck up on him but that he’d briefly fallen asleep and _woken_ up to them. It took a little longer to realize what the hell they were staring at in stunned silence was, in fact, them. He really didn’t feel like remarking on the situation or explaining himself.

“Go _away_.” Daken planted, very deliberately and demonstratively, his face back in the crook of Bullseye’s neck.

“I hadn’t thought that you and Bullseye were so _intimate_ ,” Karla said with feigned ease, she stank of something akin to jealousy but not quite. Daken didn’t care for her games – she should have known well enough not to play with him.

“We have slumber parties braid each others hair,” Bullseye muttered, eyes still closed and arms wrapped around him – Daken hadn’t noticed him wake up.

“Hadn’t thought you were big enough of a fag to fuck that pervert.” Mac chimed in, horror clear in his voice. Daken glanced up and gave the little maggot a good glare, making him obviously skittish and hide behind Ares, who didn’t seem to care a single iota about the situation.

“I’m gonna kill you once I wake up, Mackie,” Bullseye said tonelessly.

“Hawkeye! Wolverine! I thought I said I wanted you ready for debrief!” Norman barked, flustered and irate as always. Daken noticed the disgusted curl of his lips and the stiffness of his body. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well, Normie. We just spent nearly three weeks out in fucking nowhere. I haven’t slept more than a few hours each day. _Excuse_ me,” Bullseye sneered.

“We killed Wendigos. _Alpha Flight_ broke the curse today, some mystic bullshit. Read their mission brief. We done?” Daken muttered into Bullseye’s neck. Norman blustered and spluttered but stormed off without further comment when Ares shook his head and said something Daken couldn’t quite hear.

“Get off me. Wanna go to bed.” Bullseye shifted beneath him.

“Fuck you, I’m not moving.”

“Fuckface, I’ll kick you off.”

“I dare you, Lester.” Daken sighed and nuzzled Bullseye’s throat. “Just shut up and sleep.”

“Asshole,” Bullseye huffed and grasped him tightly, his breathing slowing down.

“— fuck that’s _creepy_.” Daken faintly heard Mac say, but he didn’t care to stay awake to listen. He was finally warm and comfortable, and no damn Wendigos were waiting to eat him. If Mac tried anything Daken would make sure he choked on it.


End file.
